For the first time in your life you don’t recognize the person on the other side of the mirror.
Happened over night. Parts look like you – the rest; has to be someone else – a reasonable facsimile – a lifelike resemblance. Some guy who forgets where he parked his car – some guy who can’t remember what he had for breakfast – some guy who laughs at jokes only he hears. Some guy who on most days passes unnoticed. The guy who has risen to the status of Occupant. The guy who woke up and didn’t know what happened and can’t get excited for the life of him, especially the one in front of him.
Strong resemblance to a lab rat, only missing pink eyes.
You don’t know where all the loose skin came from. Know nothing about the fifty pound bags under your eyes. You feel like unfolded laundry.
Your brain is in 1964 – it wants to stay there – your brain is riding your bike – your brain is standing over the phone, getting up the nerve.
Your brain dives feet-first into being 12. Your brain has started shaving – your brain is fixated on Miss March – your brain is sending signals.
Your brain does not like reality – your brain has stopped watching the news – your brain keeps you up at night. Your brain gives you trouble getting out of bed in the morning. Your brain has you peeing all night
You wish your brain would make up its mind.
You like that it’s 1964 – you like that you don’t have to pay car insurance or cancel the L.A. Times. You like that your brain has picked that year, of all years.
Breathe a sigh – fill your lungs with a roomful of misty blue Pall Malls and Camels – you miss it. Everybody smoked, even your mom.
Parts of you want to go back and do a remake – take that entire first date over and give your sweaty palms to somebody else – don’t be in a big hurry. A life’s worth of waiting and ten seconds to cross the finish line. And then a year waiting for the next time. Hand dying of boredom. Downside of 1964. Being a kid wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but you liked that you didn’t know it at the time. If only . . .
Music stops, moments fade, mind goes back to noise – it’s 2025 again. You only time travel when the music is on. The Notes take you places. Commercials for things that aren’t here anymore trigger the urge. Just can’t help it.
So you do the next best thing – you pull the cassette out of the player and flip it over. You press play and forget where you are all over again.
That’s more like it.
Here is 45 minutes worth of Dave Diamond from WKBW in Buffalo New York from February 23, 1964.
